April's thoughts about writing, life, and junk food

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Books

This was the fifth year of the Writers Police Academy. I've been to four, so you can tell how much I love it. The first year, most of the attendees hadn't been published. I remember looking around thinking, "Why isn't everyone here?" Now the event sells out in a few hours.

Where else are you going to be able to:

ask questions of a Secret Service agent

hear a guy who spent two years deep undercover with the Mongols motorcycle gang (and said frankly that he would never have done it if he knew how it would blow his family up and put a price on his head - forever)

put on a firefighter's turnout and work a fire hose

watch how firefighters and EMTs handle a mass casualty accident

search a building (and maybe get "killed" if you don't search well enough

talk to an expert in biological weapons

learn how forensic artists work their magic

hear from a domestic violence investigator

watch experts breach doors with explosive devices

have drinks with all the experts in the bar at night

use a firearms training system and learn what it's like to make life or death decisions in a split second

watch divers recover evidence underwater

and a million more things

This year I won the jail tour. This included a stop in the Seg Unit. Prisoners shrieked and shouted obscenities, pounded on the plexiglas and metal doors, stared and made gestures. The deputy said, "Don't worry. We are perfectly safe." But of course I had seen enough horror movies to know that you NEVER say that.